


Cake by the Ocean

by sakuracorr



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Is Not Described, City Council tells them NOT to do it, Established Relationship, M/M, Relationships are just hard sometimes, Resolved Sexual Tension, The more you think about it, The more you try not to think about something, They love each other, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:45:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuracorr/pseuds/sakuracorr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil doesn't really expect it to be too hard to abide by City Council's week long sex ban. Cecil is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake by the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song, because it's a fun song? Also it's about sex? That pretty much covers it.

_Sunday_

     It wasn’t that his relationship with Carlos had gotten boring. Well not that boring. It was a normal, natural process, Cecil supposed. Things eventually settled into routines. That shine of having finally found someone to share life with couldn’t stick around forever. Eventually the mundane details caught up. The thrill of waking up to someone in the morning became the reality of waking up too hot with drool that wasn’t yours drying on your pillow. That momentary heart skip of not going home to an empty apartment gradually became the annoyance of realizing the dishes had not been done again, even when the _petri dishes_ were perfectly clean, because _someone’s_ priorities obviously didn’t always extend beyond his lab. That someone who wasn’t even home when Cecil got home, _again_ , and only sometimes was there a voicemail telling him if he should go ahead and eat alone.

     That was normal, right, for adoration to slip into a constant feeling of exasperation? Normal for them both to just go to bed after watching a movie because they were already half-asleep on the couch anyways. Normal for sex all the time to slip into twice a week to slip into once weekly to slip into, _hey if I give you this hand job really quickly, will you let me sleep?_ Normal for any more-than-hand-job activities to become mostly scheduled affairs, a _hey, maybe on Thursday we should…?_

      _Yeah. I mean yes! Thursday. I will make sure to… on Thursday. It will be good. On Thursday._

     Cecil had long given up on trying romantic surprises, considering the surprise tended to be Cecil eating lukewarm food as Carlos apologized for taking longer than expected, the mood for any post-dinner activities having become as temperate as the food.

     So when the City Council announced the week long ban on sexual activities due to a particularly virulent infestation of sexually transmitted ear-dwelling microbats, Cecil shrugged it off, making the mistake of saying on air, “Of course, it isn’t like that is going to be much of an issue for me.”

     Carlos had been home on time that night, looking a little piqued. “What was that supposed to mean, Cecil?”

     “Hmm?”

     It always seemed like such a natural thing to be on air, to say things conversationally to his listeners, that it took Carlos crossing his arms and saying, “On the program today. What you said.” Even then it was still a little vague. “About the microbats,” Carlos prompted.

     Cecil scanned his memory, caught on the offhand comment. “Ah. Well, you know…”

     “Know what?” Carlos asked.

     “It’s just, we…” He shrugged. “You know, we’ll just skip this week, and it will be no big deal. One less thing to worry about.”

     “One less thing to worry about,” Carlos repeated, arms still crossed, voice a little disbelieving.

     “We’ll just schedule it for next Thursday. I think they’re planning on cancelling Wednesday next week anyways.”

     Carlos stared at him for a moment longer, uncrossed his arms, so that he could throw his hands up. “Yeah, sure, fine. Thursday.” He sighed, loudly. More loudly than necessary, Cecil thought. “Since I’m home early, we should at least eat together.”

     “Sure, let’s do that.” Cecil actually was rather pleased at the opportunity to sit down at the table with Carlos. Maybe talk about their days. He had seen the _funniest_ cat video. Dana had sent it to him, and he had about _died_ laughing. Literally. His heart had stopped for a little under fifteen seconds. Like thirteen or so.

      They made brown rice pasta, because it was simple, and they had the ingredients. Cecil decided he would even be nice and not mention the slurping this time because well, his comment on the radio had been more personal than he knew Carlos liked.

     Carlos, though, seemed a bit listless and uninterested as Cecil went on about the cat video, even when he repeated the whole thing to make sure that Carlos really _got_ the video on a conceptual level.

     “That’s nice,” Carlos said, noncommittally, poking at a noodle with his fork. “Is it because I’ve gained weight? I know running around in the desert otherworld did a lot of good for me, and I know I haven’t been keeping myself in as good of shape since I’ve been back…”

     “You’re fine,” Cecil said. “It’s _fine_.”

     “It’s not fine.” Carlos sounded upset now.

     “We’re just…” Cecil tried to find the nicest way to put it that he could. “Acclimated to each other.”

     “Should we do date nights?” Carlos asked. “I mean, I tried, with the opera, but it was so long, and we…” He covered his face in his hands, shaking his head slightly. “You’re right. You’re right, and if you hadn’t said it, then I wouldn’t have even noticed.”

      “It’s _okay_ ,” Cecil told him, patting him on the shoulder. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, Carlos. Just we’re…”

      “Acclimated, I know. I know.” He wiped over his face with his palm. He looked so sad as he looked up at Cecil. “When did we get so… acclimated? How did we let ourselves get so… acclimated?”

     Cecil shrugged, because he didn’t think Carlos really wanted an answer. “It just happens.”

      “It just happens,” Carlos repeated, a little hollowly. “And I knew it would happen, because it makes sense. Of course it makes sense. It was nice…” He sighed. “I knew it was too much to believe that anyone could actually be that attracted to me…”

      Cecil frowned. “I never said I wasn’t… it’s not like _you’re_ … you…” He couldn’t finish, because there was something that felt like an ache in his chest. The memory of Carlos with his desperate, hungry kisses. Shoving him against things, pawing at his pants. That stare at Cecil over dinner that told him that some part of Carlos’s mind was already in the future when they could be alone as a foot brushed against Cecil’s calf. He stared wistfully at his forkful of pasta, paused and hovering above the plate, delayed from moving to his mouth. “I love your science,” he said, “but I think if you could have sex with it and use it to keep the bed warm, then well you _would_. You would just _move in with science_.”

     “That’s ridiculous,” Carlos said. “Are you even listening to yourself? How would anyone have sex with science?”

     “I don’t know, Carlos. That’s why it was _hypothetical_ , all right? Hypothetical about you and science and all the dates you would go on, and the lovely times you would have. With science.”

     Carlos closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, I don’t think we need to worry about City Council or the microbats.” He pushed himself up from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m not really hungry.”

     Cecil felt a little deflated as he looked at Carlos’s plate and remembered how nice it had been to think about finally sitting down for a full meal together. “Carlos, wait.” He got up and pushed past the half-closed door to where Carlos was sitting in the dark on their bed. Cecil sat down next to him, feeling the shifting of the mattress pushing them together at the hip. He rubbed at Carlos’ shoulder. “It’s nice to see you. It’s nice to be home together.”

      “It’s my fault too,” Carlos said, though whether he was saying it to Cecil, or the Void, or the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lived in Their Home, Cecil couldn’t be certain. “I do come home late, and I want to go to sleep as much as you do.”

      “It’s normal,” Cecil said.

      “It doesn’t feel like it should be normal,” Carlos said quietly. “I miss _you_. I miss you liking my hair. I miss when you wanted to talk about me on the radio, when you made me feel special, even though I knew I was nothing special. Because you were special… to me… and how did I let myself start acting like…” He looked around the dark room. “Like that didn’t matter?”

      Cecil rested his hand on Carlos’ leg. Carlos turned to him. “Do you like that this is our normal now?”

     Cecil had seen a couple of people, not many, not with the average lifespan in Night Vale, but a few people who had grown old together, and he thought that it had seemed nice. He reached up and brushed his fingers through Carlos’ hair. “ _Carlos_ ,” he said, not having to try hard to find that feeling twisting in his stomach like Carlos was the most wondrous thing he had ever seen. That tightening in his chest he could feel if he imagined Carlos ever being gone. “You’re the most special thing in my life,” he whispered. “Even now.”

     “Oh,” Carlos said and swallowed.

     Cecil was suddenly aware of the proximity of their bodies, the heat that they were sharing, and he stroked his thumb down Carlos’ strong jawline. His heart had started beating a little faster, and Carlos’ eyes on him seemed a little darker than they were before, his breathing was a little shallower.

     Carlos’ breath was warm as it ghosted over his lips, their faces so close as Carlos said, “What did City Council say about…” He swallowed. “…people breaking the ban?”

     “Two-week quarantine in the abandoned mineshafts,” Cecil said, sobering just a little, not as much as he needed to as he looked into Carlos’ eyes. “We should probably… not…”

      “Yeah…” Neither of them moved. “Did it includes all kinds of sex or just…?”

     “All kinds,” Cecil said, his voice taking on a mournful quality. “They like the bodily fluids… the bats, I mean. Not City Council. Well City Council, but not _those_ kinds of bodily fluids.”

     “Of course,” Carlos agreed, his voice distracted. His lips brushed against Cecil’s, chastely the first time, and then again harder.

     As he returned that kiss, Cecil’s fingers gripped the material of Carlos’ shirt, then flattened on Carlos’ chest to push him away. “I… we can’t…”

      “Right.” Carlos brushed his fingers through that perfect hair. “You’re right.” Done with his hair, his hand didn’t seem to know where to go, then settled on his lap. Cecil picked up that hand, kissing the knuckles before curling his tongue along the bottom of the index finger. He could hear Carlos suck in his breath. “Cecil, you’re not helping.”

      “I know,” Cecil said, pushing his cheek into Carlos’ palm.

     “Let’s go eat,” Carlos suggested, and Cecil nodded. They didn’t talk much during the meal though. Carlos was looking at him with that same intense look that Cecil remembered well, as Cecil felt the gentle pressure of a foot running up and down his calf.

     It was just a week. They had done a week before. This was going to be a piece of cake. He just had to concentrate really, really hard on making it seem true, and then it would be.

_Monday_

     Not being a morning person, Cecil felt sober as he savored his first cup of coffee for the day. Next week, when he could allow himself to, he was going to go over the events of the night before, try replicating them as Carlos often talked about doing with his science. Right now, however, he was happy to not be thinking about anything other than wanting another hour of sleep and how good the coffee was as he closed his eyes and let it wash over his palette. Nothing seemed real until after the first cup of coffee anyways.

     After he was done, he got a call from Carlos. “I feel guilty, like I have been neglecting you, and like I should come home early, but then I thought maybe it would be better if I stayed at the lab since—”

     “Come home,” Cecil said, and by the relieved sigh Carlos made, he knew it had been the right thing to say.

     To Cecil, it was simple. If they didn’t talk about sex, they wouldn’t think about sex, and they would watch a movie and go to sleep like they had for the past month with no problems at all. He was even going to let Carlos put on one of his boring science documentaries that Cecil had never had the heart to tell him that he didn’t really _get_ or actually _enjoy_ , because he liked Carlos’ eyes being all lit up with wonder and science. It really was just beautiful.

      Except, when he got bored enough, Cecil would try to distract Carlos away from the documentary, hand slipping up his shirt, caressing the skin there as Cecil—

     Nope, no science documentaries. Science documentaries were out.

      When he got home, Carlos was there already, half of his arms disappearing into a sink full of soap suds. “I thought you would still be doing your science,” Cecil said.

     “There, uh… it wasn’t that interesting of a day, scientifically,” Carlos said. “Then I remembered I promised to try harder to pull my weight around the apartment, so I decided it would be good if I came home and—” He nodded his head towards the sink.

     “Thank you, Carlos. That is really thoughtful.”

      “I also have some dinner going on the stove.”

     Cecil wandered over to the stove, lifting the lid and breathing in the spicy aroma. “Curry?”

      “I thought it would be a nice change of pace.”

     Cecil nodded in agreement. He moved to put his arms around Carlos’ waist. It was nice being home together, nice feeling close. Last time he had come home to Carlos doing the dishes, he had reached down, ran his hand down Carlos’ ass, promised he would be thoughtful too, but _later_ …

      It wasn’t until Carlos made a low sound in the back of his throat that Cecil noticed how he had pressed Carlos against the sink, Cecil’s burgeoning erection pressed between them both. Cecil wanted to growl, because what was the point of being in a committed relationship when he had to refrain, like this was an awkward third date and they still wanted to go slow or something. Not that they had been taking anything slow on their third date.

     He’d apparently said something out loud, because Carlos whined, “Cecil, this isn’t helpful.”

     Cecil forced himself to step back. “I know, I just… I should… stir the curry.” He felt a nervous energy like he was fifteen again, trying to ignore something that was turning him on because it was the wrong time or the wrong place to be aroused, and no one would be fooled by him excusing himself to the bathroom. That free-floating sexual energy that had no place to land. He focused on the spoon, searching mentally for anything that might act as a metaphorical cold shower. “Ugh, _ugh_! No not that!”

      “Not what?” Carlos asked.

     “ _Steve_ ,” Cecil said, and Carlos burst out laughing. “It’s not funny,” Cecil said, but it didn’t stop him from replaying his last conversation with Steve when his brain tried instead to supply what it was like to have his fingers slicked with lube inside of Carlos, knowing that soon he’d be replacing them with his… “ _Ugh._ Oh my god. I just… I just _can’t_.” If he had any kind of sexual dreams about _Steve Carlsberg_ , he was going to have to buy that bleach that was meant for internal use, even if it did have the unfortunate side effect of having melted parts of your sinuses dribble out your nose. As long as he didn’t have to be haunted by those images for the rest of his life.

     His erection was gone, so there was that. Carlos sighed. “Midnight,” he said.

      “What?” Cecil asked.

     “It was just for a week, so Saturday, at midnight, we should be able to… the ban should be over.”

     “Right,” Cecil said. “Midnight.” He put his fingertip against his mouth as he thought. “Maybe we could find one of those spots you stand in that make time seem faster. We might have aged by a few decades by the time we come out, but that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” He tried to sound hopeful, but when he saw Carlos’ look, disbelieving, a little horrified, he sighed. “Fine then. Saturday at midnight.” Ugh, it felt like it was going to take _forever_.

_Tuesday_

      Cecil was old enough he didn’t just wake up with erections all of the time, but this morning he found himself standing at full attention as he woke up from a dream that was blissfully Steve Carlsberg-free. He wanted to at least run his hand over himself, but the microbats and bodily fluids, and the abandoned mineshafts had cable, they weren’t so bad, right?

     Carlos was on his side, snoring lightly, facing away from Cecil. Cecil knew he shouldn’t, he really did, but that didn’t stop him from pressing himself up against Carlos. The warmth and friction against his cock was making him unbearably hard, and somehow Carlos hadn’t woken up yet to tell him to stop.

     He was not awake enough to make good decisions. It was easy to convince himself that running his hand along Carlos’ thigh wasn’t strictly sexual. It could be a general gesture of affection. Cecil made a half-hearted effort to stop himself from pushing his erection against Carlos’ back again, fingers running over Carlos’ cock and balls through his briefs. He’d shut his eyes most of the way, only some of the light filtering through, and all Cecil could think was that it felt so good to wake himself up like this.

      “Cecil, what are you doing?” Carlos’ voice was groggy. “Is that… are you hard right now?”

      “Maybe?” He tried to sound innocent, like metaphorical child who had stuck their hand in the cookie jar and was trying to hide the blood and the missing chunk of flesh. Cecil groaned as he rolled back over to his side of the bed. “Carlos, I can’t take it anymore. Microbats aren’t so bad, really, once you get used to their tongues against your eardrums, and besides, it’s basically a rite of passage to go to the abandoned mineshaft. Everyone does it at least once.”

      “You’re just making that up,” Carlos said.

      “Kind of? The part about the abandoned mineshaft anyways. The microbats do tend to lick your ear drums.”

      “It’s only been about two days. It’s like you said, we’ve gone this long without sex before, especially before we met each other, so we’ll be fine.”

      He hated how matter-of-fact and calm Carlos sounded. “Maybe _you_ don’t find _me_ attractive,” Cecil said.

     “Baby,” Carlos said, rolling over so he was facing Cecil, taking Cecil’s face in his hands. “You’re beautiful, and gorgeous, and I…” His eyes had been drifting down Cecil’s body, and he stopped, took a deep breath. “So the quarantine period is two weeks. How long do the microbats take to treat?”

     “Oh, you don’t treat them,” Cecil said. “They just finish their life cycle and crawl out of your ear to die.”

     Carlos frowned. “How do they reproduce then? Inside your ear?”

     Cecil shook his head. “Of course not, Carlos.” He didn’t roll his eyes, but the eye-rolling was implied by his voice. “They obviously spawn from that weird shaped rock to the North of Big Rico’s when the moon is full. That is why they are so bad right now, because the moon got stuck for those four days last week, and the bats just kept spawning.”

     “From the rock,” Carlos repeated, slowly, to make sure.

     “Yes.”

     “Okay. So how long is their lifecycle?”

     “Nine to ten days.” Cecil noticed Carlos’ interest had waned again, and he groaned, rolling onto his back. “I would never hear the end of it from Station Management.”

     Carlos rolled onto his back too. “Right. I think I’m going to go take a cold shower and get started on my science for the day.”

     Cecil smothered himself with his pillow, cursing all the old gods he could think of for creating ear-dwelling microbats while being sure to thank them for sending him Carlos with that hair and the lips that looked almost swollen after blowjobs and… cursing them for ear-dwelling microbats.

     His show that day kept slipping into poorly-disguised but unintentional innuendoes, ending with,  
_“The road to community improvement will be long and hard, dear listeners, so hard you think you can’t stand it. You will long to do something about how hard it is, but there will be nothing to do but keep on moving forward until you are finally offered relief. When you come, I mean, erm, it comes… the relief… it will be so good, we will all shiver with pleasure and finally be able to rest. Because of community improvement. So donate canned goods to that food drive!”_

     Station Management hadn’t been thrilled with that, Cecil could tell, so he quickly did his sign-off. _“Stay tuned for the sound of your sexual frustration, as personified by a tuba. Good night, Night Vale, good night.”_

     After he was no longer live, Cecil rested his head against his desk. Of course, there were no cancelled days this week. It was Tuesday and tomorrow was Wednesday, and this week wasn’t even halfway done. His phone vibrated, and Cecil looked to see Carlos had sent him an emoji of a man wandering towards a mirage that he was never going to reach.

     It felt so appropriate.

_Wednesday_

_‘Cecil, I don’t think I can come home tonight. I think it is better for both of us if I sleep at the lab. :(’_

_‘No, Carlos. I am sorry. I won’t come onto you tonight.’_

_‘You have come onto me every night since Sunday. I really don’t want ear-dwelling microbats. Sorry. :(’_

     Cecil frowned at his phone, annoyed with all the sad face emojis. _‘That was just two nights. Come home, and I will cook, and we will cuddle chastely on the couch with a movie.’_

_‘No.’_

      Dammit. Cecil put his phone down. The weather was almost over, and he needed to get back to his show.

     When he had signed-off, he sat for a moment, pondering his next move. Then it occurred to him. If Carlos wasn’t going to come to him, then he would go to Carlos! First, though, he needed to change.

      He went home and got that mesh top he had worn when he was younger, and the leather pants that were so tight they practically clung to his skin. Then he put on some mascara, not trusting himself with eyeliner without a mirror, not trusting a mirror enough to use it for the eyeliner. It didn’t matter. He could see his thighs and most of his butt if he angled himself right, and he looked good, and he knew it.

      When he knocked on the lab door, Carlos only opened it a crack. He sighed. “Cecil, I told you no.”

     “You said you weren’t coming home. You never said anything about me coming to the lab,” Cecil said, batting his eyelashes. He had been told he looked good with mascara.

     “It was implied.”

     “Well I’m here now. Can’t you just let me in?” Cecil tried his best pout, and Carlos peered out at him with one eye.

      “Fine. But you sit where I tell you and don’t move.”

     Cecil grinned as he was let inside the lab, feeling almost giddy as he did every time he got to come in and see Carlos’ science. Something was bubbling in a glass container, the liquid vaporizing into another container, where it condensed and looped around down into another container.

     Carlos stared at him now that he was in the door. “Cecil… honey… what are you wearing?”

     “Oh this?” Cecil asked. “I was just talking to Earl about when we were younger, and it made me think about this phase I went through. I was a little punk, you know, back then.”

      “That explains why you have the clothes, but it doesn’t explain why you are wearing them.”

     “Well, I wanted to see if they still fit, but then I thought, ‘why don’t I show them to Carlos?’ I thought you might like to learn something new about me.”

      Carlos made a sound that could only be described as tittering. Cecil gave him a big smile. “So where do you want me to sit?”

     Carlos pulled a chair out from a folding table and motioned to it. Cecil felt a little put out. The table was going to block most of his body from view. He gave Carlos another little smile before trying to sit. “Umm, Carlos,” he said.

     “Yes, baby?”

      “I can’t sit in these pants. Literally cannot sit.” Cecil only wished he was making that up, but the pants were so tight he couldn’t even bend over.

      Carlos sighed again. “Then stand by the table and try to let me work, okay?”

     “Okay.” Standing Cecil could work with. He watched slyly as Carlos got back to work, pouring something into a test tube and making the test tube change colors. Cecil leaned against the wall by the table, running his hands over himself.

      Carlos stopped when he noticed what Cecil was doing. “Cecil…” He sounded irritated.

     “I’m cold,” Cecil said. “Just trying to warm up.”

     “Maybe if you were wearing an appropriate top…”

      “You’re right,” Cecil said. “I should have, but do you think, maybe, I could borrow one of your lab coats?”

      “Right.” Carlos moved to get a lab coat from where it hung on a peg from the wall. He handed it to Cecil, who breathed in the scent of the white fabric, like carpet cleaner and Carlos’ cologne and something earthy. He almost forgot about Carlos as he slipped his arms inside the sleeves. “Mmmm.” He made the sound in the back of his throat, enjoying being in something that had been against Carlos’ body. He really wanted to be against Carlos’ body…

     Glass crashed against the floor and Carlos said a nervous, “Oops” before he went to get his broom. Cecil stopped him with a hand on the arm.

     “Carlos,” he said, trying to make his voice as low as possible.

     Carlos closed his eyes. “Cecil, I can’t.” Except he didn’t stop Cecil when Cecil ran his palm against the front of Carlos’ jeans before squeezing just enough to create some pressure.

      “Do I look good like this?” Cecil purred into Carlos’ ear.

      “So… I… Cecil… you said you would let me do… science. I want to do my science.” His voice tried bravely to sound assertive near the end, but his hands had curled around Cecil’s lower arms. Cecil’s lips brushed the shell of Carlos’ ear, and Carlos shivered lightly. “I like you in my lab coat,” he said.

      “Oh?” This was new information for Cecil, who filed it carefully away before pulling Carlos closer towards him. Carlos came as if some invisible string were tugging him against his will, and when Cecil put his hands on Carlos’ hips, Carlos didn’t fight it. “Beautiful Carlos,” Cecil whispered before kissing Carlos on the temple.

      “We should… microbats…”

     “Shhh.” Cecil put a finger against Carlos’ mouth. Then he let that finger hang slightly off of Carlos’ lower lip. He was getting hard, his erection straining against the tight leather in a way that bordered on being both painful and pleasurable.

     Carlos threw himself forward and kissed Cecil, not even an elegant kiss, too many teeth, a tongue that was too eager, but Cecil didn’t care, he opened his mouth and groaned anyways. Carlos was rocking against him, and the friction was too much. Cecil reached down to try to shove his pants off and found… they wouldn’t move.

     His confusion seemed to give Carlos the opening he needed to clear his head and back away from Cecil. Carlos was gripping his fingers in his own hair, other hand on his hip, looking distraught. “You’re actually _trying_ to get us sent to the mine shaft,” he said, dropping his grip on his hair to point a finger at Cecil.

      “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t take it. Carlos, I would spend a hundred years in the abandoned mine shaft to just be able to wrap my lips around your gorgeous cock. I think if I don’t come, I am going to die, and if I am going to die either way, I would rather die with the taste of you on my tongue. Carlos, please beautiful Carlos.” He’d started babbling about the same time his voice had taken on a distraught note he had never even heard from himself before.

     Carlos, his perfect, lovely, wonderful, apparently vindictive Carlos, leaned over and said, “I thought, Cecil, that this wasn’t going to be much of an issue for you.” Then he patted Cecil on the shoulder, rubbed his arm, and walked into the room off the lab where he had a cot. Cecil heard him lock the door. That smug, cocky, gorgeous man; Cecil wanted simultaneously to fuck his brains out and feed him to the wolves at the petting zoo.

_Thursday_

     It was decided at the last minute to cancel Thursday, and Cecil almost went up to each member of City Council to kiss them one by one, except it was hard to tell what exactly functioned as their mouth or whether they, in fact, used it for kissing.

_Friday_

      Carlos wasn’t picking up his phone or answering his texts. The last time they had gone a whole non-cancelled day without talking had been that day when Cecil had gotten his phone swallowed by the slime that had been overtaking, among other things, the station floor, digesting everything it came across. He’d had to stay until the mess was cleaned up, and Cecil hadn’t gotten home until early the next morning.

      _‘I miss you :-(’_ He texted, hoping the sad emoticon would properly convey the depths of his despair, even if he sounded normal and cheerful on the radio broadcast he was in the middle of giving. It was only professional that he not let his personal life affect the show, after all.

      It lasted for most of the broadcast, until Cecil broke down. _“Carlos, if you are listening to this, I know you don’t like me talking about our private life on air, but you won’t answer my texts, and I want to point out that seducing your own boyfriend isn’t a crime. Even if there is sexually-transmitted infestation and community ordinances to think about, I only did it because I miss being close to you. Physically. I mean, it’s been a whole week, and your hair is getting to just that right length again, and anyways… I’m sorry. Just give me a call.”_

      Station management wasn’t too happy with him, and neither was Carlos, who did call right after. “On air, Cecil?” he asked. “Really?”

      “Well, you weren’t responding to me.”

      “Maybe I can’t. Maybe I don’t have the luxury of responding to you because you are making me be the one to have to say no. I have to be responsible for both of us. Do you know what it feels like to be put in that position?”

      When Carlos put it like that, it did make him feel a little bad about the whole thing. “This is just so frustrating. Even when you were in the desert otherworld, we could at least have phone sex, but in this situation, I can’t even touch myself.”

      “Cecil…” Carlos’ voice was chiding but fond. “This is that mental effect, you know, the one where you’re trying so hard not to think about something it’s all you can think about.”

     “Carlos, I am very good at suppressing things. Senior year I was voted most likely to suppress senior year.”

      “Cuddling is nice too, though, right?” Carlos asked. “Isn’t it nice, sometimes, to just be comfortable together? I’ve been thinking about what you said, and maybe you’re right, Ceec. Maybe it’s not so bad to have adjusted to each other. It means we’re not trying so hard to make time for each other, because we both know, deep down, we’re part of each other’s lives on a permanent basis.”

     “Yes, yes, that’s very nice, Carlos. And I agree. I love cuddling. But I think _you_ were right. I don’t think we should let ourselves get complacent in our relationship. And I get that you are not willing to go to the abandoned mineshaft for two weeks and get ear-dwelling microbats, but I also _like_ remembering that little shiver I get from knowing you’re hard for me. I like remembering your dilated pupils and half closed eyes and the way you say my name like I am the only thread still connecting you to the world. It’s beautiful, and it makes me angry at myself that I have neglected that part of our relationship, so maybe… even though I respect your wish to wait until the ban is lifted, I would rather think about this and suffer than let myself forget again.”

      “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me, honey bear.” Carlos sighed. “I promise that if we ever get out of this, I’m going to remember that I need to put in the effort too. You’re not less important than science. I love you and science equally, and that means spending time with you both.”

      Cecil frowned but then shrugged. It was better than being less important than science, he supposed.

      “Tell you what,” Carlos said. “Let’s both go home. Let’s cook dinner together, then we can put the dishes away, and we’ll watch something on Netflix together. Really spend some quality time.”

      Cecil really didn’t want to spend any quality time that didn’t end with Carlos’ cock in his mouth, but it was better than spending another night in bed alone, needing to reorient himself every time he woke up about why there was no one lying beside him. “Fine. But maybe it would be easier to keep ourselves out of trouble if we dined out tonight, then spent some time in Mission Grove Park watching the void together.”

\---

      The dinner went fine, though Cecil thought it really wasn’t fair that Carlos kept rubbing his thumb up and down the center of Cecil’s palm, touching their legs together. “Carlos, I can’t,” Cecil said, pulling his hand away.

      “Right. Sorry.” Carlos did look apologetic. “Just the way you looked the other night, in my lab coat, I…” His eyes fluttered closed, and Cecil found himself half-hard as he stared at Carlos’ mouth.

     They ate their food without much interest. It was Friday evening, though, Cecil reminded himself. Only one more day, and he was so leaving work early. Not even Station Management was going to deter him from finally getting to Carlos.

     Mission Grove Park was even worse. People were laying around the grass, dry humping and necking, moaning and pushing each other away. Even staring into the eternal darkness that was existence, or rather the void in the night sky, Cecil felt his erection straining against his pants.

     When Carlos said, “Let’s go home,” Cecil got up quickly.

     “Gladly.”

      It was still rather early, though. Cecil sat down on the couch while Carlos fiddled with the remote, getting the television turned on before settling down beside Cecil.

      Neither of them was paying much attention to the documentary Carlos had put on. He hadn’t asked Cecil, and Cecil hadn’t cared. He just wanted something to mindlessly watch until he was tired enough to go to sleep.

     “Cecil, I just want to…” Carlos started before he buried his face against Cecil’s throat. He shifted his body, hand running up Cecil’s thigh. “Tell me we can’t.”

     Cecil was too busy holding down a moan to respond. He buried his fingers in Carlos’ hair and tugged him away. “Carlos, if you keep this up we are both going to the abandoned mineshaft.”

      Carlos looked at him, so torn and forlorn that Cecil rubbed the pad of his thumb over Carlos’ mouth. Carlos’ hands started to move to undo Cecil’s pants, and it made both Cecil’s heart and his cock jump.

      Then Carlos stopped, falling heavily onto him, and Cecil shook his shoulder. “Carlos?” No response. That was when Cecil noticed the dart sticking into the back of Carlos’ neck.

     There was a little note rolled around it, courtesy of the Sheriff’s secret police. _“Abandoned mine shaft is at full capacity. Police-enforced celibacy is now in effect for the remaining duration of the ban.”_

     Cecil groaned. Just when he had finally broken Carlos down. He ran his fingers through Carlos’ thick hair, ignoring how uncomfortable he was and how tight his pants felt. “One more day, dear Carlos,” he whispered, though he could have been saying it to himself. “One more day.”

_Saturday_

     Carlos had slept like a rock all night, only coming out during the late morning, mumbling about coffee, still obviously under the effects of the tranquilizer.

      Cecil had spent his morning making a list of all of the sexual things he could do to Carlos once it turned midnight. It seemed counterproductive, but Cecil found that being focused, even on a list like this, helped.

     “Would you ever enjoy,” Cecil asked, tapping his bottom lip with the end of the watercolor brush he was using, “being blindfolded then teased with a feather?”

     Carlos gave him a sleepy, confused look, and then he grimaced in concentration. “Was I… were we about to have sex last night?”

     “Right. That.” Cecil sighed. “The secret police stopped us. There’s no more room at the abandoned mineshaft, so no one else is going to be permitted to break the ban.”

     “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or…” Carlos shook his hair with his fingers, and it was just at the right length. Cecil wanted to bury his cock in that hair, cum in those black curls. “Maybe, I don’t know. Is it some kind of orgasm denial thing?”

     Cecil frowned. “Oh, the feather?” he asked.

     “Yeah. I mean, does the teasing last for a long time?”

     He considered that question. “What would make you come so hard you couldn’t see for three days?”

      “I don’t think that can happen. Scientifically,” Carlos said, burying his face in his coffee mug, breathing in the aroma before taking a drink.

      “It happened to me. Once,” Cecil said. “Though the other participant being a succubus probably helped. He sucked me off so hard, I thought at first maybe that my eyeballs had come out through—” Cecil had to back up suddenly as coffee was spewed over the table.

      Carlos coughed while Cecil found a towel to wipe up. “Three days?”

     “It did come back,” Cecil said. “Though I turned him down next time he was in town. The sex was great, but it was hard getting to work without being able to drive.”

      “I… Cecil, is sex with me even adequate for you? After that?”

     Cecil turned on Carlos. “No,” he said, and Carlos looked up at Cecil, surprised. “You are not allowed to be insecure. Not after this week.” He walked closer to Carlos’ chair and tilted Carlos’ chin. “I would give up air to be inside you,” he said. “I would starve for days to taste you coming against the back of my throat. So you are not allowed to be insecure about how I feel about someone else, because I only feel this way about you, Carlos.”

     Carlos pulled Cecil down, capturing his mouth roughly. Cecil melted into it, practically falling onto Carlos’ lap. Carlos pulled at Cecil’s lower lip with his teeth, nipping before soothing over the spot with his tongue. Cecil whined, shoving his body up against Carlos’.

      _Thwack_. Cecil saw the dart sticking out of Carlos’ throat in time to get up from the chair. Carlos rolled to the floor, and Cecil winced as he heard his skull hit the hard wood. He went to the bedroom, grabbing a pillow, and he put it under Carlos’ head before he went to take a cold shower.

\---

      The broadcast had gone well, even though there hadn’t been a lot of news. Since a good portion of the adults were quarantined and a lot of the rest of them were passed out somewhere in their houses, so the schoolchildren had decided to run amok, breaking into shops and rioting in the streets.

      In the end, the secret police had decided to diffuse sleeping gas through the city, which took care of the children and made it easier for them to monitor the rest of the adult population. Cecil suspected he was only awake because the secret police hadn’t wanted to get on the wrong side of Station Management.

      Cecil had been told to don a gas mask before the gas was released. Later he was informed that he was not the only person who had been wearing the gas masks. The secret police had also given them to a group of asexual adults. They were all, Cecil included, put to work getting the children safely home in bed. It was hard work, but Cecil had to admit, he enjoyed something about having the small, warm bodies in his arms. They looked so peaceful asleep, even though just hours ago they had been breaking in windows with bats and setting things on fire with homemade flamethrowers. Ah to be young. Cecil remembered it well.

     He squinted. He was pretty sure if he thought about it hard enough he would remember it. It didn’t matter. The past was nothing but a block to seeing the present clearly, after all.

      When he got home, feeling exhausted, Carlos was still snoring where he had been left on the kitchen floor. Cecil brushed smoothed Carlos’ hair back, trying to imagine him as a little boy with floppy, loose curls, before he kissed his forehead. Then Cecil ate an apple, brushed his teeth, pulled on some night clothes and went to sleep.

_Sunday_

      The pleasure he felt coming from his groin tried to pull him awake, but Cecil’s brain fought to keep him firmly asleep. A groan escaped his mouth as he clutched at his pillow. Both things felt good, but he knew he couldn’t have them both.

     When he opened his eyes everything was still blurred by sleep, and Cecil tried to focus, a wet slurping noise reaching his ears. He reached down, fingers finding themselves immersed in strands of curly hair. He moaned, tried to pull that hair closer and felt the answering moan around his cock. His brain was starting to put things together, and Cecil had to brace himself before he pushed Carlos away.

     Carlos looked confused, but Cecil just pushed him down on the bed before urging him onto his side. “Me too. I want to be able to…” He had positioned himself on his side, head facing the opposite way, throwing Carlos’ leg over his shoulder. Carlos was already semi-erect, and Cecil grasped Carlos’ in one hand, delighted in finally, finally being able to run his tongue over it.

      He felt Carlos mirror his actions, over at the other end of the bed, but Cecil was still so hard he could barely concentrate when he felt Carlos’ mouth close over him again. He rubbed at Carlos’ thigh with his spare hand, enjoying the feel of the skin, the hair that ghosted against his fingers. It was just how he imagined it all week. _‘Perfect,’_ he said, his voice mostly just a hum with Carlos’ cock in his mouth. _‘Perfect, perfect, perfect.’_

     Carlos groaned, and Cecil could feel the cock twitch in his mouth. It took some effort to remember to breath, his hips pushing against the hand that held them in place. He was having to do the same with Carlos, and it was becoming an effort to coordinate. Mostly because Cecil’s world had concentrated down to his cock, and it was all he could do to focus on what he was doing with his mouth.

     He had already been too hard when this started, and he knew he was going to come first. It hit him hard, and he felt his balls tighten, everything going white as Carlos swallowed around his cock. When he came back from it, he had left half-moons in Carlos’ thighs, and Carlos’ cock half out of his mouth.

      At least now he could concentrate on tracing his tongue along the bottom, pulling back to swirl it over the head. His fingertips found veins and followed them back to the shaft and then up again until they disappeared into Cecil’s mouth. Then his fingers found Carlos’ balls, running over them lightly before cupping them. Carlos’ _“fuck”_ muttered against Cecil’s thigh felt warm against his skin.

     Cecil raked his fingernails over the inside of Carlos’ thigh as he took the cock into his mouth again, swallowing and humming. He could taste the fluid Carlos was already leaking at the back of his throat, and Cecil relished it. He’d thought about it for days now, and the actuality of it made him feel light-headed, nearly giddy. He could do this all day, suck Carlos off. Of course his jaw would get sore, eventually. Pretty soon actually. It was nice, still, to imagine the entire day with Carlos’ cock in his mouth. There had been a time, the first time, when the fact that he was allowed to touch Carlos felt like a small miracle, some gift the old gods had given him for weathering this small desert town.

     Carlos tried to give him warning, a strained, “Cecil, I… I…” Then Carlos’ cries as Cecil’s mouth was flooded with the taste of him. Cecil swallowed happily, still humming, and Carlos gripped at him like a drowning man until he finished. When the fingers let go, Cecil moved around to lay his head against Carlos’ chest.

      “I needed that,” Carlos said.

     “Me too,” Cecil agreed. He nestled his cheek into the hair on Carlos’ chest. Carlos, in turn, ran his fingertips down the back of Cecil’s neck, a soothing, soft motion.

     They were a mess of tangled limbs and sweat, the air smelled like the sex they had just had, and Cecil tried to remember Sunday of last week, when this hadn’t felt special. When it had been a perfunctory obstacle to sleep. “I’m sorry I took you for granted,” he told Carlos.

      “I’m sorry too,” Carlos said.

      “Let’s not do that anymore.” Cecil felt Carlos laugh underneath his cheek, a vibration.

      “Agreed.”

      They lay like that for what felt like an eternity, but which was only about thirty minutes. Then, as soon as they could, they went at it again.


End file.
